


Reprehensible

by ShadowstarKanada



Category: Gravitation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-11
Updated: 2006-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:48:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23661811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowstarKanada/pseuds/ShadowstarKanada





	1. Who's Responsible?

When I was fifteen, I still hadn't decided on what I wanted to do with my life... or rather, I had, but no one liked the lifestyle I was about to choose, and if you grow up in a certain type of family, that amounts to the same thing. In a vain attempt to give me "direction," my parents in Sapporo sent me off to live with Uncle Sato during vacation. He'd told the family he was a police officer in Okinawa. When I showed up, I don't think he had the first clue what to do with me.

He put me up in a room in his apartment and left me to my own devices. I didn't see anything exciting about him. He didn't have guns, or a car with sirens, or even a police uniform in his closet. He didn't have cable, and I'd been forbidden even a radio, so I hung around the arcades. Never having been much of a gamer or a shopper, it didn't take long before I was bored out of my mind, and I decided there was no better waste of my time than to look through his stuff.

It was all mini-cameras and microphones and tape recorders.

I decided he was a spy, probably from China and not actually related to my family at all. It had been a huge mistake for my parents to send me to this too-hot island. I was going to show them up. I had to find out what he was doing, not just for me, but for Japan! So I followed him. I was pretty discreet about it, I thought.

The first time I tried, I guess he caught me at it. One second I was trailing him into this little shop that sold pots and pans, and the next, I had this note in my backpack wishing me better luck next time.

I tried again the next day, with pretty much the same results.

I wasn't stupid. There was no way I was going to tail him again, so I spent the rest of the afternoon searching the apartment for spy equipment. By the third day, I'd found a tracking bug buried in his things. I placed it in his bento box under the wakame as he was going off for the day, and wished him well. I waited a while before I followed the signal, only to find out that he'd given the damned thing to some guy in a blue tent camped out near a park.

Disgusted, yet starting to have fun with my new past time, I looked again. The fourth day, I found another tracking bug that I was _certain_ I hadn't seen the day before. I picked it out of his stuff, but I didn't plant it. When he came home that evening, his face was pensive, and he kept eyeing me suspiciously, as though asking me where the bug _was_.

The fifth, there was another bug in there, and I left it in with the pen lights and button cameras, and I put my tracker discreetly in his jacket pocket, and I wished him well for the day before heading out on my own errands. I joined him for lunch, and he was so surprised when I snuck up behind him that he ended up dropping the sushi from his chopsticks onto the sidewalk. Then, he smiled, and we talked.

It turned out he _had_ been a police officer, getting a high ranked investigator's position before leaving. It was too dull, he told me. He wanted to put his talents to use on something else, so he'd become a private investigator. I thought he was so cool.

Looking back on it, I think he just wanted to be paid to look at young girls taking off their bras, since the majority of his work was from husbands and wives who thought their significant others were cheating on them, and nine times out of ten they were absolutely right. I think he liked taking pictures of the sex that followed finding the affair, too.

As for my little games of following him around? He saw my little direction-finding vacation as a great way to get a cheap, part-time worker to handle the seedy, sordid details of his business. I saw it as an opportunity to learn something interesting, and to do something I was pretty sure my parents still wouldn't approve of.

I learned how to put a bug in a girl's purse without her noticing. I learned how to tail someone who thought they were being followed, how to make someone think they were losing their mind for noticing me more than once- eventually, I learned how to make sure they didn't notice me unless I wanted them to see me.

I learned how to record conversations, how to set up tiny hidden cameras in houses when people were away, how to pick locks, the subtle art of breaking and entering and what the limits were between legal and illegal. I was a bit shocked when he showed me how to manipulate images to make it look like someone had been cheating- to get your next case, you had to succeed on _this_ one, and my uncle was a very popular man who left a trail of broken hearts, empty cashbooks, and satisfied customers behind him. I learned how to recognize the dangerous clients by looking into their eyes, to separate the ones with killer's eyes from the ones who were just angry enough to _think_ they could kill... Uncle Sato even taught me how to shake the police, both literally and figuratively, in case you actually did something wrong.

It hit me hard when he died a couple of years later, victim of some husband who didn't accept being caught in the act, but I picked myself up, brushed myself off, and got myself into music. And I used all those things he taught me to get to the top.

Must have driven my parents nuts.

It was all going so well. And then...

Shuichi Shindou came along, with his perfect voice and his perfect smile and his perfect little _in_ on NG president Seguchi's life. If I'd slept with Seguchi's brother in law, I'd have jumped to the top in a heartbeat, too. But I didn't, and I resented him for going lower than me. And I hurt him for it, tried to hurt Seguchi's brother in law for it...

And then Seguchi hurt me, proving once and for all that you had to be a ruthless bastard, whether you were a top private eye or a talented musician. You had to be willing to _kill_ for what you wanted out of life. You had to understand that actions always had consequences, and that karma was something you could pay back while the other guy was still around to appreciate the lesson.

When I finally got out of the hospital, I realized something: there's not much difference between Taki Aizawa and Tohma Seguchi.

We're both willing to stoop as low as we have to if we can get what we want.

The only real difference is how much lower he'd already bent.


	2. Indefensible

Things really got interesting about a year ago, when ASK was picked back up by a recording label. Not NG, of course, that was completely out of the question at this point, but by one of their rivals. Even Tohma Seguchi can't control _everyone_ in the media, after all, and it seemed as though there were one or two companies whose presidents held grudges against the man.

It was their original recording company that took us in under their wing. Nittle Grasper hadn't left Suchu Recordings amicably; in fact, their president told us that they'd had a lengthy court battle over the terms of the contract. It was revenge on their part, and I was just peachy with that.

The president liked our sound, and with Tohma Seguchi blacklisting us, he'd decided that ASK needed to be given a way back into the industry. For the sake of our fans, of course- we all understood that the company wasn't investing in _us_ , just our fans. Well, that was how companies worked, after all, follow the money.

I was very glad that we had become successful before I tried my stunt with the novelist. I think Ma and Ken might never have spoken to me again if we'd been tossed out of music for good. Of course, it was partly Ma's fault, too, ratting me out like that.

I don't blame him though, not really. He'd only been trying to protect me from myself. He even told me not to do it, but good advice never rings true. If I'd managed to shoot the author, I think being run over by a car would have been the least of my worries. Seguchi was harder to deal with than a cop.

Smarter than one, too.

But none of that mattered. I was going to get him. I was going to be a big star again, and ASK was going to show that stupid little upstart group Bad Luck what music really meant. ASK was going to show Tohma Seguchi that he'd made a big mistake in choosing _them_ over _us_.

Everyone knew why it happened, even if no one was brave enough to say it aloud: Bad Luck was chosen because Shindou Shuichi was sleeping with Eiri Yuki. Stupid, right? I mean, what kind of person bases their business decisions on who's sleeping with whom?

It wasn't fair, and everyone knew it, but everyone was too scared of Mr. high-and-mighty Seguchi to say anything about it.

At any rate, we were pretty quick to start on our new record. It was like all that time off really stimulated our creativity. Ma and Ken acted like the whole thing was a dream come true, but for me... well, I felt as though there was something missing. Something off about the whole thing. Not that Suchu was a bad company, by any means! No, Suchu gave us all the support and care that NG never bothered to give us.

No, it was- press conferences by Bad Luck, Seguchi standing right behind them, like he used to do for us. Was I jealous? Maybe, I don't know. What I _do_ know is that I couldn't stand the sight of him standing there, all powerful supreme lord of the music industry, backing a bunch of losers like Bad Luck.

I couldn't stand it! Not when he'd pushed me into traffic. He shouldn't have had power any more. Shouldn't someone have taken it away?

I didn't have high hopes for the cops, of course. The police have always been incompetent, and people like Seguchi have always managed to squirm out of any charges the police actually manage to _lay_ by paying off the legal system. It doesn't matter if it's legal, getting a high priced top lawyer is a little different from getting some run of the mill guy off the queue from a big chain of lawyers.

No, even were I to report the incident, I had no doubt Seguchi would be left unpunished for his crimes. So what was I to do? I did the only thing I could do.

I planned for my revenge.

* * *

It wasn't perfect, no, but it was a step in the right direction. All I needed to do was get into that apartment, and I could plant my little device that would tell me when they were both out so I could come for the followup visit. Hell, I could probably do it while they were... otherwise occupied, except that I did want to put them in _every_ room.

I wanted them both out of the house for enough time to do my thing.

I knocked on the door, perhaps a little more loudly than I should have. Not entirely in character. It didn't get any results, so I tried again, and again a moment later. Just as I was about to try the fourth time, the door swung open.

"Surprised anyone still knocks..." he muttered. I filed the information away while his eyes narrowed. Suddenly, I remembered why I was afraid of this guy. "Taki Aizawa." It was that same self-satisfied sneering tone he'd used when he'd come to get the film out of my hands. I half-wondered whether or not looking at those pictures made him hot and bothered, before deciding that I really didn't care. "Shu isn't here," he said with a hostile little smile.

I took a deep breath, and looked along the open air hallway to see if anyone was there, then went down on my knees and bowed to the bastard, forehead to the ground. "I apologize," I said formally, respectfully.

The silence lasted for over a minute, only the sounds of breathing showing that either of us were there at all. I didn't dare move, lest I disturb his thoughts and make him reject me out of hand. Finally, I risked a glance up. "Get up and tell me why," he said as soon as I had.

I stood a little uncertainly. "What do you mean, _why_?" I asked. "You want me to give you excuses?"

"No." He took out a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep drag. "Why are you apologizing?"

Ah. A flaw in my plan, I hadn't expected anyone to ask that question. But I could think on my feet. "I felt it was time; I'm starting a new career, and I thought I'd make a fresh start. Apologize to the people I hurt the last time around..."

He took another deep breath of his cigarette and blew it at me. "No..." He leaned against the door. "He won't sleep with you," he said. "Ma, that is." I swallowed. He laughed. "Come in, Aizawa."

I walked in, feeling successful and nervous at the same time.

"Sit down, Aizawa." He was playing with me, I would have heard it in his voice even if I'd been blind to the humourless smile on his face. It kept me on my guard, but I sat down and tried to put on a face that showed him I wasn't intimidated by him. Well. Not _very_ intimidated.

"Tea?" he asked, that self-satisfied smile still on his face.

I squirmed. His grin widened and he padded off to the kitchen.

Now was my chance. I slipped a hand into my pocket and put the bug on the underside of an end table. "So," I said, "I had to apologize. I did some very bad things in the past, made some very poor judgments, and I-"

"Shut up." He bought the tea over to me. "Drink."

I took a sip. What the hell was he doing?

"I wonder," he said, eyeing me with those killer's eyes, "how sorry you actually are."

"Ah... very sorry. Extremely sorry."

"You want me to call Tohma Seguchi and ask him about your band?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Everyone wants something. You and Ma want your band back, right?"

"No, that's not why-"

"You should try to be more convincing." He sat down and picked up his phone, dialing a number without hesitation. "It's me," he said after a moment. "You busy?" He smiled at me again, one of those ruthless smiles. "Aizawa's here. I think he wants to start his band back up." His smile turned into a smirk and he tossed the phone to me. "He wants to talk to you, Tacchi," he said, his voice lilting like the sea.

I put the phone to my ear, rather worried. I hadn't intended to talk to Seguchi, at least not yet. I gave a little unconscious bow as I began to speak. "Ah... I only came to apologize to Mr. Yuki. Please forgive this phone call, he must have misunderstood my intentions..."

There was utter silence on the other end of the phone. I waited in horror for a whole minute. If he thought he needed to, Seguchi could _still_ manage to screw my band up just by making sure we couldn't get on any stage in Japan.

"Hello?" I asked, when the waiting got too bad.

Still, nothing was said from the other side of the phone. Yuki stood up and snatched the phone out of my hand and hung it up. "Looks like my brother-in-law didn't want to talk to you after all, Tacchi. Neither do I. There's no forgiveness for what you did to my Shu." His smile disappeared, as he apparently remembered what exactly I'd done. He stood and walked to the door, opening it and motioning for me to leave. "Good bye, Aizawa. Go and don't come back."

He hadn't called Seguchi at all, I realized.

I stood, hiding my smile. He wouldn't be telling the head of NG about my visit. That was fine with me. It made things much easier. I walked out, ignoring his beast's eyes. I turned at the door to face him, intending to give him a final apologetic bow, but he slammed the door in my face.

Good enough.

With that, I headed off to the studio. I had a recording to make with Ma and Ken. _Stifling Secret_ s. A story in song of revenge, hatred, destruction. I figured it was going to be a hit.

* * *

It _was_ a hit. Even Tohma Seguchi couldn't take _that_ from us.

What he _could_ take, unfortunately, was every single live venue we wanted. We ended up singing in a bunch of tiny Tokyo nightclubs for almost a month, fans packing the places until they were fire hazards. He filled what should have been _our_ concerts with Bad Luck and Nittle Grasper and other little nothing bands that, had they gone up against ASK back when we were at NG, would have never managed to get a single live presentation. Such was his hatred for us.

It hardened my resolve.

There weren't that many ways to get through to Seguchi, to really hurt him. One was through Nittle Grasper, another was through business, and the last one was through Eiri Yuki. Nittle Grasper was a tough egg to crack, with the lead singer being crazy- if the people of Japan didn't mind him crazy, how could I do anything that would make him less popular there? NG Records, well, ASK's comeback would be revenge enough there. But ASK's rising popularity wasn't enough, and I knew that.

So when my first opportunity came up, I picked the lock on Yuki's apartment and put up the cameras. I hid them quite well, if I might offer my own opinion on the matter. I put them everywhere: one in the overhead light in the bathroom, another lined up with their bedroom, one in the little office with the computer in it- oh, and I was _tempted_ to take the computer, but I settled for an image of his personal files on the hard drive copied onto a memory stick.

The kitchen was an interesting surprise. Someone kept their medication here. Pantoprazole, Moclobermide... I took out a notepad and jotted the unrecognizable names down, along with the proscribing doctor's information on the bottles of pills and bags of powders. Sadly, none of the stuff looked illegal. I wasn't averse to dropping some drugs in the apartment, but putting them in jail for trivial reasons seemed like something Seguchi could help them with.

I closed the cabinets and set up my last camera, then looked around and made sure that I hadn't knocked anything out of place. When everything looked as it should, I left. I set everything up to broadcast itself to a private network that I'd set up through an internet account in Hong Kong. They could trace it to me if they tried, but I'd know they were trying, and I'd cut it off and deny everything.

Every night for a week, I'd go home and study the videos that had been made in fast forward. They were never interesting. Yuki would invariably say something to Shindou that caused the singer to cry. The singer would go off and sulk, and when he returned, which he always did, they'd have passionate make-up sex. Seguchi came over once. I played the video at a normal speed when that happened, and found myself getting insight into the man.

The conversation touched on the medications I had yet to research, leading me to believe this was a chronic condition of some sort. Seguchi looked so very worried about his brother in law. "Eiri, I don't think you're thinking this through. A tour can be very stressful. You can't just hide in hotel rooms. It's constant traveling, and-"

"Are you going to forbid me?" asked Yuki, taking a long drag from the cigarette that only seemed to fall out of his mouth when he was in bed.

Seguchi looked extremely uncomfortable, even through the cloudy camera picture. "I don't think anyone can force you into anything, Eiri," he said uneasily. "All the same, even Shuichi would agree that you should not put your health on the line to accompany him on a tour."

I decided then and there that I was going to fuck with his medicine. I hoped he had something terminal that the medicines were keeping at bay. That's just the kind of man I am.

"I'm not letting him go off on his own for a month. Idiot would get himself trashed every night and call me to complain about his hangnails." He took another puff of the smoke. "And I can't just ignore his calls either, because then he'd do something _really_ stupid."

I have to say, the man was a smart one. Shindou'd never be able to handle himself on a real tour of Japan. I wondered why Seguchi hadn't given _us_ that chance, because I knew that we'd have done better, then decided again that it was another example of family connections being more important than _talent_.

"Mr. K wouldn't let him-"

"K is just a manager. He can't be responsible for a brat like Shuichi."

Seguchi shook his head. "When a band is on tour, a manager is more than a manager. Mr. K will take care of him." Yuki leaned forward and tapped the ashes off his cigarette, raised it, then appeared to think better of it and put it out. "Mr. K has guns if he tries something stupid."

"I suppose."

Seguchi nodded. "I'll drop by again later," he said, standing. "Please take care of yourself, Eiri."

The man in question raised a hand in a dismissive wave and lit another cigarette. I hoped he had lung cancer.

When Shindou came home that evening, their makeup sex was worse than ever, all that pounding and kissing and _sex_. I took a copy of it for my records before I wiped everything clean for the next week of recordings.

It wasn't until Shindou was gone that I got the chance. I went in with sugar pills and bitter powder and I switched his medications with placebos. It took all of ten minutes, and when I was done, I bugged the phones for good measure. I probably shouldn't have bothered: Yuki was amazingly accurate about the nature of Shindou's calls while on tour.

The brat managed to behave while on his tour, mostly. Only one night of over the top drinking. I guessed his manager must have put a stop to that, given the way he complained about this Mr. K to a bored Yuki. And every day, Eiri Yuki took his medicines and looked a little less well.

One day, my surveillance tapes showed him going out for some groceries... and he didn't come back.

I was so very _disappointed_ to hear of my rival's misfortunate cancelled tour, I said to the cameras when they obnoxiously brought up the subject. I understood his reasoning, but _I_ , of course, would _never_ disappoint my fans and leave them just for my own selfish needs.

After that, I learned very little for a while. You can't just get into a hospital room and plant a bug, after all, and I had a high profile. It wasn't like the lead vocalist of ASK could just go charm the nurses like I'd done as a teenager.

So I hired someone. A former cop, working as a chef in a 280 bar for his day job (though really, it was a night job), one Mr. Yasu. I didn't quite know why he'd quit the police force, and I didn't much care. Hell, I didn't even want to know any more about him than his family name. In retrospect, I suppose this was a mistake of some sort, but I wouldn't know _that_ for quite some time.

Hindsight is 20/20, or something to that effect. I read it in the make-believe and fancy talk that Eiri Yuki publishes. Cool, I think it was. Pity the only things Seguchi publishes are foolish love songs and dry financial statements.

Know your enemy. _That's_ in Sun Tzu.

At any rate, I had Yasu check out the hospital, to find out if Yuki was dying or just sick. Turned out all I'd done was aggravate his ulcers. The doctors were running tests to check out the possibility of a malignant cancer, since he'd been on medication when he'd started getting sick again, but I doubted I'd be so lucky.

Yasu _did_ find out that pretty much everyone was angry with Shindou for postponing the tour. Yuki was giving him the same kind of harsh words as usual, except that he was forced to stay in hospital so there was no make up sex. I didn't quite know how to use the fact that they were mad at my singing rival, or at least, I didn't at first.

By the time I figured out that I could have used it to break my rivals apart, it was too late, and they were back out on tour.

The worst part of it was that Tohma Seguchi had decided to do a thorough inspection of the Yuki/Shindou apartment. He most definitely was _not_ pleased to find that the medicine had been swapped- I knew I should have gone in and switched it back when the man had fallen ill, but I just hadn't had any _time_. He found my cameras, too. No great loss, of course, I just went off and did the fallback, making sure the Hong Kong company removed my name for a very high fee (working for a band isn't necessarily lucrative, and it cost me almost all of my free cash.)

All this meant that suddenly there was security around Yuki, and _heavy_ security at that.

There would be no more surveillance videos, that was for damned sure.


	3. Reprehensible

If there was one thing that Tohma Seguchi loved, it would be his family, that was as clear to me then as it is now. However, if there were _two_ things he loved, surely Nittle Grasper would be included in the list.

If ASK was important to me, even through my revenge fantasies, I knew that Nittle Grasper would be Seguchi's weak point.

I broke into Ryuichi's apartment first. Easy enough. The man was a freak, and apparently didn't think that someone might want to break into his apartment. The doors were all unlocked. Talk about stupid, right? A major star like that... disgraceful. I went in and messed with his stuff. Stole his underwear, a couple of stage outfits.

This time, there were no cameras. Whether I wanted to plant them or not, the consequences for getting them caught while watching Shindou, Yuki _and_ Ryuichi seemed too dangerous. Hell, I already suspected that Seguchi was watching me. I'd picked up a tail to shake earlier in the week. I had to be really careful with that, too, since I didn't want anyone knowing I knew how to do it, or how to recognize it in the first place.

In a war of information, you kept the other guy in the dark as long as you could.

I'll admit I hadn't been too smart the last time around. I hadn't even _tried_ to hide what I was doing. By not saying anything in the previous occasions, Seguchi had given me tacit approval, and I'd taken that approval to mean that I could do what I wanted as long as the police didn't hear about it. Frankly, I was smart enough not to be caught by the _cops_ , which was all I thought I needed.

If it hadn't been Seguchi's brother in law's boyfriend, it probably still wouldn't have mattered.

But back to Nittle Grasper and Ryuichi's apartment. I found his medication hidden under his bed, which struck me as a strange place to put it, until I realized that some of it probably wasn't precisely legal in Japan, what with the english writing and all, some of it probably wasn't legal at _all_ , and there weren't even two bottles prescribed by the same doctor. There _was_ a schedule over his bed, color coded, that roughly corresponded to the pill bottles. I would have thought it was a child's drawing if I hadn't just found the medicine.

I made notes and moved on.

I took a copy of what he was doing on his computer. Notes about new songs. I could publish these. Not under my own name, obviously, but as some deluded fan... It'd set them back months.

Finally, on my last sweep of the apartment, I opened up the door to his bath and was confronted with the oddest sight I could have imagined. No, strike that. I could never have imagined it.

Pictures. Curls of pink hair. Used bottles of hair dye. Newspaper clippings and magazine articles. It was a fucking _shrine_ to Shuichi Shindou of Bad Luck. In Ryuichi's bathroom. I blinked. Several times. Very quickly.

And then I smiled. Nastily.

When I left, my first stop was an internet cafe, bag of Ryuichi's crap set down beside me. I paid for the time, and uploaded Ryuichi's computer to a Yahoo site before going to Ryuichi's biggest fan BBSs and posting the location and information.

And then I started a rumour.

All right, fine, so it wasn't the kind of revenge that was going to make Seguchi wake up screaming at night, but it was something small, and it was something I could do _now_ and it was something that would _work_ against the man, even if it was childish and petty.

Still, I noticed Seguchi put a lot more time into quashing a stupid little sentence (accusation?) than he ought to have, so it did turn out to be a good distraction. Well, I suppose he'd _had_ to, once the media started descending on his precious brother in law to ask about his cheating live-in partner.

It was all a little funny. I had Yasu play the part of paparazzi. I told him how to watch out for Shindou visiting during his tour. Taught him how to recognize the singer- though, really, if he couldn't recognize a kid with pink hair, he wasn't any good at his job. I had him take photos of Yuki.

I told him to watch out for Seguchi and take pictures of him too. And Seguchi's wife. And anyone else who came around to the writer's apartment, or came in contact with the writer. I got some nice photos of his editor for my trouble.

It was around this time that my work with the band really started picking up, so I didn't have much time to go around dealing with my plans for Seguchi. He seemed to be watching me though. He showed up at one of our concerts. I was so surprised, I missed my cue. The audience didn't notice, but Ma took me aside afterwards.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked me, looking a little bit scared under the anger. "You don't talk to us anymore, me _or_ Ken, you're always off doing that side project, whatever it is... do you even care about ASK, Taki?"

"I saw Seguchi out there," I said, skillfully avoiding the question. I felt like my eyes were haunted. They probably were. "I kept seeing him pushing me..."

It was a lie. I don't even know why I said it. I wasn't that broken up about it anymore. I'd focused on revenge, and that had cleared away all his cloudy, evil promises. But Ma didn't know that. Ma looked like it explained everything.

His shoulders sank, and then his arms were around me.

I stood there back straight for a moment, awkward with his arms around me like that. "It's okay," he murmured into my ear. He thought I was scared. He thought I was upset. "Maybe ASK should take a little break, let you get back on your feet."

That _bastard_ Seguchi.

I put my arms around Ma, hesitantly. "I'm okay." Ma seemed like he was waiting for something. "I was just surprised, that's all."

He nodded, but his hug tightened around me. "It's alright if you cry, you know."

It was getting a little bit surreal. I didn't quite know what to say. It's one thing to lie to a man like Seguchi, to put on an act in front of a criminal like Yuki... but to Ma? He wanted me to cry, though. So...

So I did.

It's not that hard to summon tears, after all. It wasn't cathartic or powerful for me, but Ma seemed to think it was helping, and that wasn't all that bad. I guess I've got a bit of a soft spot for the guy.

It was a soft spot they'd use, Seguchi and Yuki. That man already _had_ threatened him. Take care of yourself, Ma? Who was he to tell that to a guy he'd almost killed?

I had to step up to the plate and start knocking them down. This was getting serious.

But for now, Ma held me, and that felt nice. It almost made me feel like Seguchi hadn't pushed me in front of a damned car, like I hadn't been in the hospital for weeks trying to recover. It made me feel a bit like Seguchi was only a ghost moving through his own private little insubstantial world. So I stayed in Ma's arms, and he in mine, and for just a moment, I didn't care that none of that was true.

* * *

I managed to convince Ma and Ken that I was fine. It was a trick in and of itself, but I finally managed to get them to believe that, as long as Seguchi wasn't in the picture, I'd be fine. Still, the pair of them watched me like nothing I'd ever seen before.

I liked that they were concerned about me, but it was just... too much. Too much care, too many "Are you all right, Tacchi"s from Ma and "You're going to be okay for the live tonight, right"s from Ken. They even got the manager in on it. It was getting embarrassing.

We released another single, and I _swear_ , if the two of them didn't manage to get security for the building just to keep Seguchi away, I don't know _what_ happened. Every door had a guy on it, checking IDs and press passes. After that, luckily, the overwhelming concern from Ma and Ken seemed to lessen, until it was barely affecting anyone.

That's when I had the urge to do it again. To make them hurt. Seguchi and his friends. I didn't have much to work with, or so I thought: having the police raid Sakuma's apartment wouldn't have done much good, for the same reason that it wouldn't have worked much against Yuki. Messing with Sakuma's medication seemed rather pointless, when half of it was illegal. He'd just learn to start locking his doors.

What I _did_ have, though, was the tape I'd made of Yuki and Shindou going at it like sex starved priests. Sure, everyone knew they were gay, but would their fans stick by them when they understood what gay really meant? When they saw the... ins and outs of it all?

There's a video store near their house. I saw them rent something there once during my tapings. Let's just say the two of them don't rent Disney. I went in, found the section with the lewdest porn imaginable, and switched tapes.

You know how long it took before _that_ shit hit the fan? About nine hours. I was pretty impressed with that store.

But the people I really wanted to hurt didn't seem to care about the tape at all. And that just wouldn't do.

I had to get serious.

* * *

My revenge against them entered its final stage musically. Against Tohma Seguchi, there is only one kind of revenge, and it will always be musical.

It had been trivial, really.

I knew how to do it. _That man_ with his killer's eyes. Tohma loved him most in the world? I'd bring him down first. I did some more digging on what caused him to become a murderer. Imagine my surprise when I found it had all been a case of self-defense... but it hadn't quite been, had it, what with said self-defense occurring more than three hours after the young boy's rape.

I knew the ideal plan: have Shindou rape him, let him kill his young lover. But I wasn't going to manage that. Eiri Yuki would have to be unconscious for a tiny thing like that Bad Luck singer to manage to rape him, and I suspected he wouldn't much care.

So I chose a different route.

My "visit" to Ryuichi Sakuma's apartment had given me a lot of information. There was a big upset about someone getting in there. Cops weren't able to get enough evidence to figure out who did it. I smile when I think about how incompetent they were. I wonder if I was even a suspect? They seemed to focus on stalkers and paparazzi, at least from what the newspapers and music magazines reported, and I was neither.

Ah, but that Ryuichi Sakuma. The man was a mess. I'd researched them, all fifteen different mood altering medications, all those prescriptions in pretty, neat handwriting, all in pretty child-like packages, all these pretty, colorful pills lined up beside a schedule.

The next step took a lot of research on topics I'd never considered studying before, but I did it. I knew what I wanted out of it, so it was just a matter of answering all those questions that came up. What drug interactions would work? How should they be given? What dosage? How long would it take?

The pill I got out of that wasn't so pretty, but it would dissolve easily. Almost instantly. It didn't even have a taste- I tested it to make sure, since it really wasn't going to affect me the way it would affect Sakuma. Thank god for the expertise of the dirty drug dealers and the rotten pharmacists of the world, right?

After that, it was just a matter of finding the right opportunity.

I knew how to tail people discreetly- it was how I'd gotten my victims in the music industry before Seguchi destroyed my band- so I followed Sakuma around as he went here and there, cap on his head, cap off his head, in costume to keep the fans away, always carrying around his stupid pink toy. How the girls can lust after a man who needs to keep a pink bunny around I will probably never know...

It wasn't long before I saw them together, after only a few days of waiting. It started as a normal night, Sakuma drinking Shirley Temples at the bar. Shindou came in not too long after, and the pair of them took seats in a booth. Shindou looked upset. Close to breaking down in tears. No brave little smile this time, I noted, and then I smiled.

I was going to make things infinitely worse.

Sakuma ordered him a martini that Shindou tried politely before he pushed the glass to the side. They started talking. Whatever Sakuma was saying, clearly it was making Shindou feel better. I walked over to the bar and ordered. Shirley Temple and... I smiled briefly. Sex on the Beach. A girls' drink would be a good choice for someone like Shindou. And a third for myself, just a single of whiskey, on the rocks.

I slipped the pill into the drinks, my custom cocktail of drugs for the virgin and a nice drip of ecstacy and acid for the other, waited five seconds for it to all fizz and dissolve, then walked over to their table.

"Shindou." I put the drinks down. The vocalists looked up at me, one curious, and the other a bit... defiant for a second. "Look, I-"

"Uh... Who are you?" asked Shindou.

My hand tightened around the whisky glass still in my hand. "Taki Aizawa." He stared at me blankly. "From ASK," I said through my suddenly clenched teeth.

He took a fast drink from his martini glass, making a face. "Lazy eyes. What do you want?"

I took a breath and a slug of whisky. If my act didn't work, people would know. And if people knew, Seguchi knew. And if Seguchi knew... this time, maybe he'd decide that a truck would work better than a car, and I wouldn't find myself in a hospital but in an urn instead. "I did some... bad shit back then. Well. I, uh..." I drank the rest of the whisky, put it down and bowed low. Not like I was going to kneel in front of the little prick in a crowded room. "I'm sorry," I said. "I know you probably can't forgive me for what I did to you, but-"

"And Yuki," he interjected.

"Yeah, and him too," I said, undeterred. "I'm sorry."

Sakuma shrugged and started on the new Shirley Temple I'd brought him.

Success on one side.

I couldn't afford to let up the act, though. Shindou still hadn't touched _his_. "Please accept my apology."

"Why are you... why now?" I opened my mouth to answer, but he just kept on speaking. "Look, it doesn't matter. I can't deal with you right now. Please leave."

I stiffened, then relaxed visibly. "I understand," I said, straightening. "Maybe you can forgive me one day in the future for the wrongs I did you. Sorry to disturb you both, Shindou. Sakuma."

Shindou nodded and took a drink from my glass.

Have I mentioned I'm a consummate actor? Yet another reason why I should have been kept on the NG label. Before I left them, I dropped a bug on the bunny. I had to know. I had to know if I'd won. I really wanted to drop it on Shindou, of course, but that wasn't possible. The trick to it all is knowing how far you can go.

I went over to the bar and ordered myself something non-alcoholic- a virgin martini, as I recall- and put the listening device in my ear. Then I waited and listened.

The conversation wasn't all that interesting. They started off talking about me. Shindou- Shuichi- he turned the conversation away. I could hear the concern in Sakuma- Ryuichi's voice when Shuichi refused to say what I was apologizing for, but eventually he dropped the subject and they moved on to other matters.

Eiri Yuki. He'd kicked Shuichi out of the house.

My eyes narrowed at that. I'd gone through all that work, and it looked like it was going to be wasted. Yuki had kicked the boy out? I was furious, though I kept nursing my drink as though nothing was wrong.

I was soon relieved to hear that Yuki had a habit of doing it. "It doesn't mean he doesn't love you, you know that," said Ryuichi. "You can stay at my apartment if you'd like." He laughed. I didn't like his laugh. It was really more of a mad child-like giggle. "Maybe you should get your own place. You can afford it. Then you'll have somewhere to go when he kicks you out."

"Ryuichi, that's not helpful," whined Shuichi.

"Kick _him_ out, let him see how it feels," said Ryuichi thoughtfully. His voice seemed to be deepening. "Ah! Shuichi, don't drink so quickly!" His voice turned back to his general light tone.

It _had_ to be setting in right now. Had to be. It had been almost twenty minutes. Yet the man seemed... in the same mode of insanity as ever. He'd ordered another drink or two for himself, forced a bit more alcohol into Shuichi- a chuhai, some sort of vodka sour... who was he to be telling the boy to slow down?

"I'm really sorry about this, Ryuichi." I could hear the weary smile in his voice. "I wouldn't want to be any trouble for you..."

"How can my good friend Shuichi be trouble for me?" The sound of the bug cut out for a half a second as Ryuichi picked the doll up. "You and Kumagorou aren't any trouble for me!" he declared. "Let's go home. Kumagorou's tired."

"Thanks," said Shuichi, his voice grateful.

I scowled. The drugs hadn't done a damned thing yet. Perhaps Ryuichi was in the habit of missing his medications? I wouldn't put it past him, carrying around his stuffed animal all the time as though he was some little girl. If that were the case, none of my planned interactions would do anything to him. As far as Shuichi... well, I'd give it more time. No one was immune to LSD.

I followed them to Ryuichi's apartment. Something could still happen. Even if it didn't happen in front of a hundred people, it could still happen, right?

When they got into Ryuichi's apartment, he offered a shower to Shuichi. I could hear him muttering to himself. I couldn't make out the words, but they were soft mutterings and sometimes the sound would cut out. He was holding himself back.

I smiled and sat back into the shadows on the stoop of the building across the street.

"Shuichi," said Ryuichi suddenly, his voice hushed. No, not hushed. Hoarse with desire.

"Ryu... I don't feel very good." I wondered if he'd dressed.

"Lie down on the bed," suggested Ryuichi. "I'll come with you."

"Don't you need a shower?"

"Oh." Ryuichi sounded suddenly confused. "Yes. Will you hold Kumagorou?"

What the _hell_. I wished they'd just _do_ something already. I had it all planned out, I'd bring it to the media, Eiri Yuki'd find out all about his lover's affair, he'd off himself- maybe toss himself out the window or something- and then, Tohma Seguchi would be so crippled with grief that he wouldn't see me coming.

It didn't take long after that. Shuichi was saying something, then suddenly he gasped. "It moved," he said, sounding afraid. "Kumagorou, you shouldn't be moving without Ryuichi. Don't move any more." He started breathing heavily.

I smiled, wishing I had cameras in the place.

"Kumagorou, stop moving, or I'll call Yuki..." I could hear something snap open, and then clicking sounds. "Yuki?"

If only that phone was still bugged...

"Yuki, it's Kumagorou. He's moving, and, and Ryu isn't here..." His breathing was getting faster. "Ryuichi's toy, Kumagorou. He must have must have introduced you before? He's moving, Yuki," he said in response to the disbelieving question that must have been asked. "Don't hang up, Yuki! I'm sorry, I'll make more sense..."

His breathing was slowing. Presumably his boyfriend was saying something comforting to him. Or maybe just the familiar of calling him names? If Shuichi was thinking about make-up sex, it'd be easy for Ryuichi.

"What do you mean, take something? I- he's moving again. Kumagorou, stop!" The toy was hit, that was the only explanation for the sound going out. "I... I'm sorry, Yuki. I'll calm down, I promise. Okay, I'm looking at the wall."

He sniffed. "I don't want to..." He sniffed again. "Fine. See you soon, Yuki."

Look at the wall? Hmph. Well, it looked like _that_ ruined my fun.

I was just about to take the earphone off when I heard it.

"Shuichi?" It wasn't a word so much as a short, yet somehow _drawn-out_ chorus of a song.

"Yuki?"

Oh. And Yuki was coming over. _Oh_. I smiled.

Ryuichi must have touched Shuichi then, because they both moaned. Then came wet, soft sounds of kisses. "Oh Shuichi, you're so shiny..."

And then, Shuichi. "Yu... Ryu..."

And then nothing but soft moaning and the slap of flesh on flesh. They sounded like they were singing with drums for accompaniment, almost. If singing were composed of moans harmonizing with each other.

I tapped a finger against my watch after about five minutes. For two guys in the throes of powerful drugs, they certainly were _taking their time._

I was happier when the black car nearly crashed into the building. I could see Eiri Yuki's eyes through the glass, bright and angry and half-afraid. I shrank into the shadows and kept listening to the grunting. Yuki must have taken the stairs five at a time, because the sound of the door slamming open came through my headpiece less than thirty seconds later.

Eiri Yuki was a killer. I knew that. I knew it the instant I saw those eyes, I knew he wasn't just some novelist. Those were the kind of eyes my uncle warned me about, the kind of eyes that showed a man not only knew how to _kill_ , but also how to bring someone to the edge of pain itself before sliding him onto a razor's edge between life and death. The sounds I heard now... were...

Ah, Ryuichi's cries were _exquisite._ It was an orchestrated _masterpiece_ of pain. Timed to the beating, louder and more desperate than anything I'd ever heard, yet somehow _confident_ \- how the hell did someone's voice remain _confident_ while receiving such a beating as the amber-eyed killer had to be giving?

"Stop," croaked out the pink-haired vocalist. The beating continued. "Stop, Yuki," he said again after clearing his throat. It kept on.

And suddenly, it wasn't just Ryuichi's cries. It was Shuichi too, screaming like he'd never screamed for me. I can still remember every little cry. "The walls are falling in, Yuki, stop!" and "Yuki, it's all purple! It hurts, stop!"

I smiled. He was going to kill Ryuichi. This was better than I'd planned. This could be leaked to the police, to the press... Seguchi wouldn't be able to stop it.

When the cries stopped, so did the beating.

I could imagine this. How Yuki was looking around the room right now, realizing he'd just beaten Ryuichi to death. Or half to death, I wasn't quite sure, and I didn't think it really mattered.

"Where's your phone?" his cold voice asked, grating through the room.

I would have known he wasn't a singer without ever looking at his eyes. He could keep a beat well enough to be a drummer, though. I wondered if he'd ever played those silly games in the arcades, drumsticks flying to the tunes...

I could imagine Shuichi curling himself in on himself now, as the truly sick often do, rocking himself gently. "Things in the air, Yuki... Make them go away..." Pathetic, truly pathetic. It was like he'd never taken a drug in his life.

I felt almost guilty at that thought. Then I remembered that I didn't give a damn and smiled instead.

"Hey." There was a brief pause. "Fuck the 'big brother' thing. Did you put him up to this?" Oh, so suspicious. It had to be Seguchi on the other end, _had_ to be. "My Shuichi. His fucking idol Ryuichi. Together tonight." He sounded like nothing less than a dog who'd had his food bowl taken away with his favorite treat in it, angry and protective of things that were _his_. The pause was longer this time. Ah, to be a fly on Seguchi's wall right now... "No, I don't expect you to control everyone. But you might want to send a doctor for your _drug-dealing son of a bitch rapist_ of a singer here. I'm taking _my_ vocalist home." The pause this time was even longer. " _I_ did it. _His_ house. They're _both_ hurt. And I'm hanging up _now_."

"Y-Yuki... I..." Shindou's voice sounded like sugar glass as he whimpered about the colors.

_Finally_ , I thought. After so many times, when he'd pulled his voice out of nowhere, he was finally in a situation where he couldn't sing. He'd finally sung the song I'd wanted him to sing back when Bad Luck was nothing more than a second stringer for _ASK_ , and it had left him breathless. And Ryuichi was a bonus. Nittle Grasper and Bad Luck, neither of them would stand in my way from this day forward. They'd sung themselves raw at my call.

"Put your clothes on," he said. The minute difference in tone said it all. I'm a trained singer, I've learned to recognize tone. He was deathly afraid, and he was trying to hide it.

What was he so afraid of, I wondered. Was he unsure he'd done the right thing?

There was silence for a few moments. "What are you doing with Kumagorou?" asked Shuichi. The men stayed silent, and then there was the sound of ripping threads. "He's still alive, he's still _alive_ , Yuki! He's still _breathing,_ don't... don't..." And then he was crying, soft sobbing that hung in the room like poisonous gas.

I could imagine the tall blonde shaking his head. "Do you need help walking?" Yuki asked quietly. No, no. Gruffly, that was it.

There was no response, but a few minutes later, the pair of them had walked out of the building. Shindou was helped into the car, head hanging, eyes lost. Eiri Yuki drove away like it was the scene of a crime. Which, come to think of it, it _was_.

Moments later, another car pulled up to the building. Two men walked out; one was Tohma Seguchi. They didn't rush up the stairs quite as quickly as Yuki had, but when they arrived, the commotion was greater. It took almost thirty minutes before Seguchi asked the question that I'd been waiting to hear: "Will he be all right?"

The other man, clearly the doctor Yuki had told Seguchi to bring, said, "He'll live. But the attacker's last blow hit the throat here. It looks like his larynx may have collapsed. I've had to do an emergency tracheotomy. I don't think he'll be singing any time soon. If ever. He's just lucky he lived."

"Do what you can," said Seguchi. "I'll have to try to cover this up." He said to himself. "Oh, Eiri..." he sighed. He must have left the room after that and run down the stairs, because he came out of the building far too quickly for my tastes, his face and body devoid of any expression of emotion.

No emotion? Wasn't it _enough_ , what I'd done? Did I have to hit him closer to home?

He got in his car and put his head in his hands briefly before his shoulders began to shake.

It was the first time I had seen a man like Seguchi cry.

I certainly hoped it wouldn't be the last.


	4. Me

Have you ever heard King Crimson? I like the old prog rock guys from England. Those were the days. They could just jam for hours on end. Nowadays, it's all pop- it's the difference between listening to a debate and a sound byte on the news. They're both interesting, but the debate always ends up having a bit more substance to it. Not that I don't like pop, mind you, I mean, it's important to appeal to lots of different people. It's just...

Well, haven't you ever wished you could grow up?

Jazz'd be good too.

That's why I go to these jazz clubs sometimes with Ma and Ken. No one recognizes us, and we can be grown ups for a while. What self-respecting fan of jazz would recognize ASK here? None of them would admit to it, even if they did. We can be incognito here without even wearing a hat.

I'm not totally sure whether I was surprised to see Suguru Fujisaki along with Bad Luck's guitarist, grooving along with the rest of us to the beat eclectic. The kid was kind of young for that kind of place, yeah, but then, he was a pop idol too, so I suppose it wasn't that strange. In a different time, I might have been that kid's friend: a talented young musician and his older, wiser friend. But this was the time after Seguchi, and everyone knew Fujisaki was his cousin.

I considered my options while I sat there with my band mates.

I considered ditching Ma and Ken, getting some of the boys from the bad neighborhoods, and making a night of little Seguchi's cousin. I discarded the notion quickly. Rape had gotten dull recently.

My second thought was of drugs. It wasn't difficult to find an opium den if you knew where to look, even now, with Japan's fine laws. Ah, Uncle Sato. I don't think you meant for your crime fighting tips to be used so. The drugs had worked well against Shindou and Sakuma, but to do the same thing twice was so... uncreative. Of course, hooking him on drugs and creating a scandal wouldn't be quite the same thing, but still...

Before I could complete my musings, who should walk in but Mr. big ugly American manager K. My lips pursed and I looked away from his guns. That guy had eyes on him just like Yuki's and Seguchi's. No. Not like theirs. They had the eyes of killers.

He had the eyes of an assassin.

Where Yuki's eyes were overarched by cold anger and fear, where Seguchi's eyes were tinged with hidden, hot anger, Mr. K's eyes were just... dangerous. I knew I had to do something about _him_ before I did anything that affected the band he managed.

What could I do, though?

I weighed my options carefully. It wasn't like there was a single phone call that was going to make the man a non-issue.

On the other hand... he had family in America, didn't he? A wife and a kid... They'd been in the news sometime last year, hadn't they?

I might not be in America, I might not have connections in America, but I've got a lot of connections _here_. And they're a global organization. What kind of favours did I have to call in? I needed someone pretty high up the ladder. Not the top, no, that'd be too much, and there was no way anyone up at the top owed me anything, but...

Hadn't I signed those posters for Kazuyoshi Agata's sister, gotten her backstage passes to a few sold out shows? I also had my music industry connections, I could probably... It probably wasn't enough for a hit, but maybe...

I excused myself from the table and walked into the bathroom. I had a couple of people to call. The first thing I did was check to make sure no one else was there before dialing the first number.

"Yasu? It's me," I said without any preamble. "I want to you find out about Bad Luck's manager. He goes by the name Mr. K."

"Another one?" asked Yasu. "How many of these guys are we going to investigate? What do you think they're doing?"

"Don't whine, I pay you good money to do this. _And_ you're getting to watch the stars. Some of Japan's hottest people."

"Are you some kind of voyeur?" he asked me.

Voyeur? "It's not like I'm asking you to watch the emperor," I replied testily. "What's your problem, anyway?"

He was quiet for a moment. "That kid, Shindou. You spiked his drink."

I went silent. He'd been watching? Did he have pictures? He could ruin me... He could ruin _my vengeance._ No need to panic. If it came down to what we each said, no one would accept the word of a failed cop against the word of a star. "What are you talking about?" I asked him. I hoped my voice was icy.

"Okay, Mr. Aizawa. It was only something I heard."

"I didn't spike anything. Don't listen to nasty rumors," I ordered. Was it a rumor? Had Seguchi heard it? Yuki? The two of them were more than capable of murder. Capable of sending Mr. K to kill me... "If you think it's too much, don't bother," I said. I wished it had been another kind of phone. Pressing off on a cell isn't the same as slamming down a receiver.

So. K might be looking for my head right now. I leaned up against the wall. I had to do it, take preemptive action. A threat to his family might not be enough, especially if he thought it was me. It had to be more drastic, it had to be-

The man in question walked into the rest room. He looked at me for a moment, then started to take a piss. When he was done, he shook himself, zipped up his pants and left.

I scowled. Did he see me as so pathetic? That he could just turn his back to me, like I was nothing? Like I was no one? I was angry, suddenly. Really angry.

I dialed my 'friend' with his international connections. "Yo, Agata," I said casually. "It's Taki Aizawa. You remember me, I got your sister all those backstage passes..."

"Oh, yeah. Superstar," he said in recognition. "How're ya doing?"

"Good, good. Your sister need any more passes?"

"Ah, she's real big on these Bad Luck chips now." I could almost hear the shrug in his voice. "Dunno. She likes 'em. Me, I liked ASK better, but I'm not the target audience right?"

"Heh." I grinned. "Well, I could get _you_ a backstage pass still."

He laughed into the phone. "So, you call to shoot the breeze with me?"

"No. I was wondering about the cost of something that... well, that your American affiliates might be able to do."

"Business, huh? That's fine with me, but I make it a policy to only conduct business in person. Cuts down on... phone worries. You know what I mean, Aizawa?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Usual place?"

"Betcher ass, Superstar. 2 hours. Got me?"

"Yep." This time, I closed my phone carefully. I wouldn't want to be rude to a guy like Agata. He could have me killed faster than Seguchi could, and probably cover it up better. These guys were pros. Like Mr. K.

I went back to ASK's table and looked up information on the internet. Google's so helpful that way... Ma was looking over at me every now and then, probably curious about why I was playing with my phone instead of grooving with them.

Over at Bad Luck's table, I could feel Mr. K staring holes into my head. I resolutely didn't look at him. It really didn't take long at all to find Mr. K's family. Maybe it's because they're high profile, or maybe it's just because I'm that good. Strike that.

I really _am_ that good.

I looked up and smirked at Mr. K, which I admit was a little bit foolish. I felt pretty superior to him at that moment though, him just sitting there, staring at our table. He looked a bit taken aback to find that I'd met his eyes. I got up and walked over to them without saying a word to Ma or Ken.

"Heard Bad Luck's going to take a fall in the charts," I said. "That's what you get for gaining promotions by having your lead singer sleep around."

The guitarist- Nakano, wasn't it?- looked a bit pissed, but obviously was too smart to lose his cool. "Why? Is ASK putting out a new record? Our fans probably _will_ have a tough time buying anything from us after you've blown their eardrums with your crap on the radio."

My hand clenched tightly into a fist, but my mouth smiled. "I hear your-"

Ma put a hand on my arm from behind me. "Stop baiting them," he said. "Isn't it enough that their sales are plummeting thanks to those new scandals at NG? Leave them alone. Sex scandals, drug abuse... how sad for them."

K's eyes snapped to Ma. "Bet Seguchi feels stupid _now_ ," I said, then took Ma's arm and pulled him back to our table. "I was handling that," I said, a little bit annoyed.

"Tacchi," said Ma, reverting to my nickname, "if you really want to do that kind of thing, we're with you. A few words never hurt anyone, and besides, they deserve them, after all the crap they've been doing. Fame really got to their heads, huh."

"Yeah." K was still looking at Ma. I didn't really know why, but it was time for me to leave the club, so I didn't dwell on it. I yawned largely. "I'm beat, guys. See you tomorrow. Big rehearsal."

"Yeah," said Ken. "See you later, Taki!"

I regret it now, leaving them to go meet my Yakuza contact. If I had it to do again, I think I would have stayed.

Don't get me wrong. My meeting went _fine_. Agata set his friends in America to do what I'd asked pretty quickly. I barely even got charged, since they used the whole concept as a loyalty test. What's 1,000,000 yen for hurting some kid? Nothing, that's what it is. It's a freebie.

I knew it, Agata knew it, and I figured I'd be getting a call from him eventually to ask for a repayment of the favor. I didn't grudge that. I really didn't. What goes around comes around, right? Right, well...

Only, sometimes, it comes around to the wrong people. The whole _karma_ thing is pretty messed up, I guess. Or maybe Ma and Ken were bastards a lifetime ago, and I was a saint, and next time around _I'll_ be the one who gets beat to a pulp outside of a jazz club.

They didn't want to press charges, and wouldn't tell me who did it. Fucked up our concert schedule, though. I put my money on K. Guitarists are _always_ just talk, and Fujisaki's probably too young to really do that kind of damage.

I watched the "news" with Ma at his bedside, our hands linked while my face twisting into a smirk that Ma scolded, but not particularly harshly. K was running back to America, which definitely made up for him beating poor Ma and Ken to bloody pulps. I was pretty surprised we'd made the news here in Japan, because I hadn't thought the Winchester family was quite that high up the ladder. I got the feeling that my repayment schedule from Agata would be a little tougher than I thought, but then, did it really matter?

The kid was badly injured from the "accident" that involved a rather high building.

I wondered how they'd pulled it off: despite the media attention, the police apparently weren't involved. I further wondered if it had been Seguchi, the Yakuza, or the Winchesters that had convinced the police not to pursue the matter.

Any way worked for me.

* * *

The next few weeks were a blur. I did so much to hurt him.

I had this little gadget I bought under a false name from the Akume Corporation in Yokohama. It was this little pair of wire clippers with a trigger. I'm not sure what they were for, maybe some sort of practical joke? They sell strange things at that company. I put them into Nakano's motorcycle, and one day, when he had young Fujisaki on his bike on the highway, I pushed the trigger. They _both_ almost died.

And then I anonymously leaked the tape I'd made of Ryuichi's beating to the police and the media. Seguchi appeared at Yuki's trial, haggard and wan. Yuki clutched his lover's hand. It was so sweet and cute in the media, except for the fact that they called him 'killer.' His book slipped right off the top ten list.

An unauthorized biography of the man replaced it in the number one spot.

It documented Seguchi's torrid love affair with Yuki. Shindou left Yuki (although, I ironically wondered how permanent _that_ would be.) Seguchi's wife left _him_.

I like to think that the author wouldn't have managed that without the help I sent him. Uncle Sato always said a well-manipulated photo was worth a thousand words. Or was it ten thousand yen? Either way, I must have written half the novel myself.

Well. With Yasu's help. His negatives of Yuki and Tohma were really helpful.

I was also busy with Ma and Ken, trying to get our new CD out by the deadline. After they healed up, it wasn't so hard. We had most of our material written, and even if they couldn't play or practice while bedridden, they could still collaborate with me on actually writing the songs. They'd hum, or sing, and I'd take creative control. I have to thank Suchu Recordings for getting them beds in the same semi-private room. If they hadn't done that, my friends would probably have gone into private, separate ones, and we wouldn't have gotten any work done at all.

Bad Luck came out with a CD that ranked really poorly, and then, the strangest thing happened: Nittle Grasper came out with a CD that didn't even make the top ten charts. Ryuichi Sakuma's voice was only on the first three tracks before mysteriously being replaced by Tohma Seguchi and Noriko Ukai with duet-style vocals. Neither of them could really hold the weight that singing in a pro band required. When our CD came out, everyone was talking about Suchu Recordings, as though NG didn't exist. We debuted better than Nittle Grasper and Bad Luck put together.

I was exceedingly happy for a few weeks. We were on _top_. In all Japan, we were the best.

But the greatest happiness comes hand in hand with demons, or so they say.

We were in a club again, me, Ma and Ken, just sitting with our drinks. I saw Seguchi sitting at the bar with Ukai and Sakuma. Sakuma played with his stupid stuffed animal, head inexpertly sewn back on, without any real joy, his usual smile wiped clean from his face. Bad Luck was there too, the lead singer with his head propped up in one hand, a colorful drink mostly finished in the other.

They were finished. I was... more than happy. More than happy. Everyone was there, everyone who mattered, and I'd _won_... When who should walk in but Mr. Yasu, the ex-police 280-chef private eye. He looked over at me, then sat at the table with Seguchi.

It interrupted my conversation with Ma. I trailed off mid-sentence and just watched. Seguchi and Ukai's eyes drifted to me. Sakuma just kept playing with his rabbit. I suppose that's what happens when you steal someone's voice.

Then, Yasu stood up and went to Bad Luck. Fujisaki, arm still in a sling, looked taken aback, while the guitarist's eyes narrowed. Shindou broke down in tears.

And then, Mr. Private-Fucking-Eye came over to our table.

"We know all about you, now, Taki," said Yasu.

"Know about what?" asked Ma.

I said nothing.

Yasu sighed and pulled out a police badge. I looked at him, astonished. How had he hidden this from me? The fucking _bastard!_ I hope I didn't show my thoughts, though. Seguchi was smiling at me suddenly, a predatory, hateful hyena's grin.

It wasn't so bad. It wasn't. He was a cop. Cops are stupid. This'd be _just fine._

"Tacchi, what's going on?" asked Ken softly.

I shrugged. "Dunno. What do you want," I took a moment to glance at the rank on the badge, "Detective?"

"Want? Well, I _want_ a confession. You know it goes easier on everyone when there's a confession," he said mildly. Bastard lit up a cigarette.

I pulled it out of his mouth and put it into the ashtray, twisting it hard to make it go out. "I'm a singer," I said, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't smoke around me." The fact that _I_ smoke every now and then is irrelevant. The goal is to keep the policeman under you.

He rolled his eyes. "All right, then, if you're worried. Now, Mr. Aizawa," he said, taking out a photograph. "Do you recognize these people?"

I looked. An array of convicts' faces were lined up on a sheet in front of me. Several of them were drug dealers I'd dealt with in the past. Not _dealt with_ , mind you, I'd never _dealt_ drugs, just... bought from them. Asked advice of them. "No," I said simply.

I glanced at Seguchi. He had his phone on his ear, one hand idly rubbing Sakuma's back. Ukai was glaring daggers at me.

"Who _are_ they?" asked Ma, curiously.

"Do you really want me to do this, Mr. Aizawa?"

I shrugged. "Hey, I don't know who they are, so do whatever you'd like."

He pulled out another photograph. When the hell had they taken photos of me? I should have noticed! Uncle Sato _trained_ me to notice! I felt myself stiffen involuntarily, so I forced myself to relax. The worst thing to do when talking to police was to act like you were guilty. There'd be an explanation, I'd make one.

"This one sold you... let's see..." He pulled a piece of paper out of his coat. "A form of cocaine."

Ma looked at me.

This was bad. Very bad. Drug laws in Japan are harsh. They had photographic evidence of me. But how did anyone know what I'd bought? No... Yasu was _bluffing_.

"Even if I were going to do drugs, I wouldn't do _that_ one. Opiates are _hard_ drugs." I smiled at Yasu. "Do I look like some addict to you?"

"No," said the detective with a straight face. "You _do_ , however, look like a man who'd slip drugs into someone else's drinks."

"Tacchi?" Ma asked, his eyes wide.

I did it. I looked Ma straight in the eyes, and with a disparaging, betrayed look on my face, said, "I can't believe you think I'd do that, Ma. Do you think so too, Ken?"

Ken wouldn't look me in the eyes. "Taki, you'd do _anything_ to get to the top."

"I'm not _that_ low," I said, half-regretting the words as they came out of my mouth.

"We searched your apartment this evening, Mr. Aizawa. We found these notes about Ryuichi Sakuma's drug schedule- which, I assure you, we'll be getting in touch with _him_ for later." He threw a glance at Seguchi's table. Presumably, the other man couldn't hear Yasu, because his smile hadn't yet wavered. "We also found your notes regarding what you thought would be Mr. Sakuma's response to a variety of drugs."

Searched my _apartment_?

"Taki?" asked Ma, hesitantly.

I thought quickly. "A man is allowed to have stupid fantasies about people," I said. "Maybe they weren't _healthy_ , but they were just fantasies."

"And you knew about his drugs _how_ , exactly?"

"Some lunatic fan sent the list to me."

Yasu shook his head and slapped my notes down on the table. "Mr. Aizawa, is this not your handwriting?"

Ken looked at it. Ma just glanced at it. "Taki, shut up now. You don't have to talk to him. We'll get you a lawyer, then we'll deal with this whole mess." He went on, while Ken, who still wasn't _looking_ looking at me, stole glances at the three of us.

I wanted to hit them both. Anything I'd done was for ASK. They had no right to- to criticize me for it.

"Katakana is not exactly distinctive, is it. It's not... it's not _calligraphy_ or something," I said. I didn't even have to fake the offense that snuck into my voice.

I turned, distracted as the door opened. Eiri Yuki walked in and glared at me for a moment before sitting down at a table away from both Sakuma and Shindou. Didn't Ryuichi have a restraining order against him? I brought my attention back just as Yasu was taking out another set of photographs. He spread them on the table. "All right then. Do you recognize _this_ man?" he asked me, showing a picture of Agara.

"Don't say _anything,_ Tacchi," said Ma.

"I can _handle_ this," I hissed at him, my teeth clenched. Then I forced myself to relax while I replied to Yasu and his fucking ugly policeman's badge. "I gave his sister tickets to an ASK concert once," I replied, trying for a nonchalant air.

I saw Seguchi on the phone again. Who the _fuck_ was he calling _now_?

"And on the twenty-first?" He pulled out a picture of me and Agara sitting on a park bench. I was handing him money in a paper bag.

They'd set me up. This was fucking _entrapment_. Fuckers.

"The twenty-first? You were with some guy in a park while we were getting beat up by-" Ma closed his mouth on the rest of the words.

Yasu took a moment to look at Ma. "We're still investigating that," he said politely, then turned back to me, his eyes narrowing. "So?"

I didn't have an answer for him, so I just kept silent.

"Was this a final installment, or just a downpayment?" he asked.

"Who is this guy?" asked Ken.

"Yakuza," said Yasu swiftly, his eyes not leaving mine. He was looking for a reaction that I was damned well not going to give him. "Confession is good for the soul, they say," he continued.

"What are you, Christian? Karma gets the people who deserve it," I replied, just as quickly.

" _Fuck_ , Taki, what the hell is wrong with you? This is the police! He's accusing you of... of..."

"Of _what_ , Ma?"

"More than a drug and sex scandal, that's what," said Ken. "Okay, look, man. You've always been a great singer, and I've always respected you for that. But... I can't deal with guys who are breaking into people's apartments over the weekends. The whole thing with Shindou before was bad enough, but-"

I swore silently. No one had ever told me how to get someone _else_ to not trap you in a policeman's double talk.

"What thing with Shindou before?" asked Yasu.

Oh, fuck me.

"Uh, nothing," said Ken, his eyes wide.

"No... tell about this thing with Shindou."

"I misspoke," said Ken, uncomfortably.

Oh, _fuck_ me.

"Shindou's here. Maybe I should ask him. What do you think, Taki?"

_Fuck me hard with a toothpick._ I'm pretty sure my eyes twitched. If they did, I know the detective saw it. I'd made the one mistake my uncle told me never to make, and that was showing them that they had you where they wanted you. Even if they _did_ , you weren't supposed to let them know it.

"I don't have to take this," I said, standing up.

Ma and Ken stood with me, and we walked to the door, leaving Detective PI and his growing frown behind us at the table.

Karma's a bitch, have I mentioned that?

Outside the club, the press stood, taking pictures. I closed the door as fast as I could. At least I knew who Seguchi was calling. Even Yasu looked surprised.

We stood with our backs to the door, both bands watching us. Of them all, only Seguchi looked happy. Figures, huh? The one guy I was trying to get, and he was the only one without a deep frown, angry glare, or cold stare marring his features.

Ma squeezed my hand. "Did you do it?" he asked.

"Do what?" I replied, less a question than an angry statement.

"I don't know." Ma's eyes looked far away for a moment. "Look, we'll get a good lawyer. They can't just accuse you of stuff without any hard evidence."

Ken shook his head. "No. You two believe what you want. There isn't a lawyer in the whole fucking _world_ that's going to get you off of _this_ one, Taki. Those buddies of yours were bad enough, but now you're hanging with verifiable _Yakuza?_ I mean... what are you _thinking?_ Those guys _kill_ peo- Oh, you'd already know that..." He looked horrified.

"I didn't kill _anyone_!" I protested. I hadn't. I mean, I was trying to _ruin_ them, not _kill_ them. What use would it be to _kill_ them? With my luck, it'd be all anyone ever talked about for my entire career, how Nittle Grasper and Bad Luck members were all killed in a horrific plane crash or what have you.

"How do I know that? You were willing to..." he glanced at Shindou, then at Yasu, and looked me in the eyes. "You were willing to rape that kid," he said, sotto voce. "Why wouldn't you be willing to kill him?"

Ma spun on Ken. "Shut up," he said, barely a hiss of air through his lips. "We didn't say a word against that, it's the same as saying yes."

Yasu stood and walked over to us, picking the bug off of my shirt with a sharp movement.

Seguchi started laughing. Laughing. _Laughing at me._ And... I found that I was smiling too. And laughing. At me.

There was something wrong with me. But it was the same thing as what was wrong with him. Trails of rubble in our wake, didn't even care enough about our own _bands_ to keep them safe. He didn't even want to kill me, he just wanted to teach me a grand old karmic lesson while I was still around to appreciate it. Everyone was looking at us, me and Seguchi, and we _laughed_ , as though sharing a private joke.

I'm sure you don't get it.

Hell, I'm not _quite_ sure I did.

"So what's your name, Mr. Private Investigator?"

"Sato Yasuzawa, Detective from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. Nice to meet you."

Sato Yasuzawa. "Of course," I said, surprised that I was surprised. I looked into Seguchi's eyes again. He looked so very _calm_. I bent at the waist, stooped over as low as I could, and bowed to the winner. Yeah, I was bested. But you know what? I doubt there are many people out there who can say they've made Seguchi cry, and I'm one of them. And deep down, I knew Seguchi... He was _just like me_.

Ken and Ma are going to jail, or they're going to rat on me. I hope they talk. As far as it goes, _I_ don't have that choice- who'd be stupid enough to say anything about organized crime and drug dealers? It's a small enough protection for them, but I'll take the responsibility. They're still _my_ band.

Even with the way it's turned out, bringing a man like that to tears... I'd do it all again. Yeah, no question. The only thing I'm guilty of is letting myself get caught.

They'd better lock me up forever.


End file.
